Age of Princesses, Pirate Ships and Seven Dwarves
by Mrs-N-Uzumaki
Summary: A series of unrelated CS one-shots and drabbles.
1. Girl Talk

This one takes place after Zelena was defeated and goes AU whereby the time portal did not open and Emma is in the process of deciding what to do.

Disclaimer: Please don't sue me.

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Mary-Margaret was about to take her fifth sip of morning coffee before hearing someone rush through Granny's door in a flushed heap. She raised her brow at discovering that it was her daughter. So much for a quiet morning away from her screaming newborn, (she loved him, don't get her wrong, but she hadn't had a single ounce of silence in weeks). Her husband insisted he'd take care of him for a few hours while she engaged with the outside world and absorbed some sunlight.

Emma ordered a drink before rushing to her mother's table. She knew she looked like a disaster, but in the time she had to get ready and leave it was the best she could do – a messy ponytail and what was left of her makeup.

Snow didn't say anything as she waited for an explanation. She watched Emma hesitate for a few seconds.

"I did something," Emma began, breathless, and a look of slight guilt on her face.

"Oh?" Mary-Margaret replied, a mixture of concern and amusement in her voice.

"So you know last night, after Killian and I dropped Henry off at Regina's?"

"Mm-hm," Snow said, signalling her to go on as she dipped a biscuit in her drink.

"We walked back to his room and talked for a bit."

Snow covered her mouth as she chewed on her breakfast. "Okay?"

"And then we shared a few drinks…" Emma's voice quickly lowered as Ruby placed her coffee at the table. Once she took her leave, Emma continued. "One thing led to another…" her mother wasn't getting the idea. But Emma certainly didn't want to spell it out for her. "We kinda…" Snow furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, shaking her head with slight impatience. "You _know_…"

Snow's face lit up in realisation. "Oh! _Oh_."

"Yeeeah."

"Um," Snow was at a slight loss. They haven't had conversations like this since she was just Mary-Margaret, her friend and roommate. "Do you…regret it?"

"What? No! I mean…I don't think so?" Emma pondered. "No…I don't," she said, firmly this time. "I'm an adult. I'm a mature adult who's entitled to have some fun once in a while. After all the evil witches and curses, I think I've earned it, don't you think?"

Snow smiled at her flustered state.

That was a good thing, Emma decided, because she didn't seem to be judging her.

"Emma, I'm glad you decided to open your heart up."

"Whoa, who said anything about-" Emma paused. "Look it was just a-"

"-one time thing," Snow said knowingly. "In any case," she placed a hand on Emma's, "it's a start."

The conversation died down for a minute between them. After an awkward silence of sipping coffee Snow broke the silence, her curiosity seeking no end. "So what happened this morning?"

"This morning?"

"Yeah, have you decided to talk about it?"

The look of guilt sprung back into Emma's features. "That's the thing. Nothing happened."

Snow gave her a puzzled look.

"I kind of…ran off…while he was asleep."

Snow slowly nodded, "Okay…and have you figured out what you're going to say to him the next time you see him?"

"Not yet…why?"

"Because he just walked through that door." The two of them turned to see the man of the hour walk into Granny's café and order a morning drink from Ruby.

"Crap!" Emma ducked in her seat. "Don't let him see us."

"Too late, he spotted us," Snow's lips naturally lifted into smile at the man, earning a similar friendly response from him, "and I already waved hello. And now he's coming this way…"

"Damn it!" Emma quickly crouched in her seat until her torso was almost covered under the table. "What do I do?"

Emma's frantic eyes searched Snow's. It was one of the few moments Emma looked at her for guidance, not as a friend or a roommate, but as a mother, and it rendered Snow still. But before she could give her a response Killian was already by their table.

Over the past running weeks, after learning that Emma had decided that her happiest future, after all, was amongst her family and friends, Killian adopted a lifestyle that would hopefully encourage Emma to think about a future with him. He allowed David in on his decision and, after enduring much of the man's laughter, David decided to help him pick out clothes that wouldn't make him stand out like a gloomy beacon. Now here he was, clad in jeans, a simple t-shirt and a leather jacket (he would never let that part of him go), approaching an awkwardly grinning Snow White and hunkering Emma Swan.

Emma's brain quickly reeled to find an explanation for her crouching position to avoid further embarrassment. She looked at the floor beneath her feet and aimed for an item. Then with swift movement she sat up and exclaimed, "Found it, my penny!" She placed the distraction on the table with as much beaming triumph as she could muster. She knew he stood right beside her, but she still couldn't help but evade the look on his face.

"Good morning, Killian," Snow said in a glaringly chipper tone – whether it inflated or flattened the elephant in the room depended on one's obliviousness.

"Fine morning," he nodded to her. "Is it not, Swan?" he said, this time giving Emma a cheeky smile.

"Your drink, sir?" Ruby called from over the counter.

Killian turned to the server and then back at the two young ladies. "Well, as you kids say nowadays, I shall see you around, yes?" He then made a grab for his drink and left the diner, the grin never leaving his face.

Emma looked at her smirking mother. "Don't-"

"I didn't say anything!" Snow rebutted as she sipped her coffee.

The saviour groaned and plopped her head lightly on the table. He was never going to let her live this down.

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Review, lovelies?

More to be coming soon.


	2. The First Time

He was asleep, the first time she said it. Whether she wanted to make sure he was or to wake him up, she wasn't certain. Even though she knew how much he wanted to hear it, and she couldn't blame him.

It had been a few months since he confessed to the sad fate of his separation from his vessel.

She couldn't believe it. That ship had meant everything to him. And he tossed it away the split second he was given the chance to find her.

No one had ever done anything like that for her.

It gave her time to seriously look at him.

She was finally certain of his degree of dedication. He won it, her heart. And as he promised, no trickery took part in the process.

She kissed him then, because he earned it. And she was feeling good, for the first time, about her future, rather than just the moment. She had her son, her family; why not go all the way?

So here they were now, a month in, side by side, in bed, during the peak of a summer night; clad in t-shirts and shorts.

All the events leading to this moment flashed through her mind in a montage of captured scenes…holding hands during evening strolls, nuzzling under blankets during film nights, stolen kissing between the days…

But these were just actions. And it seemed that actions and words were two vastly separate entities.

Now here lied the problem: she wasn't sure if she wanted to say it or just that she couldn't. She also couldn't decide which of the two was worse.

There he was. A man who helped rescue her son; a man who saved her father's life; a man who was constantly by her side, who followed her through time, who gave away all he had to find her and bring her back to her family, who helped her find her home and accept a huge part of who she was, who had so much faith in her; a man who made his feelings clear almost every day. And she couldn't even do the courtesy of returning them with just a few simple words.

It got to the point where she was worried that something indeed was really wrong with her.

She wanted him, she knew that. Because when he wasn't there, she thought about him. And when he was there, she thought about nothing else.

He was patient. Infuriately so. But she didn't want that. Instead she was waiting for the moment for him to finally break and snap at her, finally just give up and leave. She was prepared for that, therefore it will be easier to deal with, because she was all too familiar with it. She could pick herself up again before it was too late.

But the damn fool didn't do any of that.

He didn't yell, he didn't snap.

And he didn't leave.

_After all that…do you honestly think I would give up? If so then I have startling news for you, love._

Instead he caressed her cheek, he kissed her forehead…and he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

It was starting to scare the shit out of her.

Her bubble was slowly descending to unfamiliar territory, and she wasn't sure how she'll save herself from the fall when it burst.

_Take a leap of faith_, they always told her.

She licked her lips, deciding to try it out – a test trial of sort, to figure out where she was in this relationship. She closed her eyes tightly and then opened them, looking up at the innocent portrayal of his peaceful slumber as she gently whispered close to his ear, "I love you…"

There it was. She said it. There was no going back.

Time went by as it should, the world didn't stop living, the fan heaved no mess.

But the bubble did burst, and she was descending, fast, waiting for the shocking impact…and when it didn't happen, she opened her eyes. She realised that she kept her eyes closed during that entire fall she missed the part where he was there and ready to catch her. And he did. Now he was gazing at her with the same look he always gave her whenever she doubted herself – with kind reassurance. And every time he did, she knew she was going to be okay. This was no different.

Emma blinked up at Killian's unbroken oblivion.

She didn't expect an answer. Why would she? She wanted to make sure he was asleep…right?

She had been so afraid, God was she afraid. Of what? Again she wasn't sure. But right now she didn't care. Because he was _still here, _that was all that mattered. He was beneath her arms. He was real. And he was _here_, she repeated to herself. And what she felt was just as real, and it was absolutely relieving.

She breathed out a quiet sigh and placed her head back on his shirt-covered chest, soon allowing her mind to be in peace with the serenade of his heart, unaware of a small smile slowly tugging at the corner of his lips.

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This seemed a lot more heart-warming when I wrote it at 4 AM…ugh

Constructive criticism is welcome.


	3. Boys Night

My most popular OUAT drabble on tumblr thus far.

Disclaimer: See previous chapter.

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The man was incoherently rambling in his ear again. Scratch that, now he was performing a very loud spectacle of sea shanties.

David preferred the rambling; especially when Killian insisted on making him join his merry display.

The young-looking prince adjusted the man's position as he almost flopped to the ground for the fifth (or was it sixth?) time this night. The swift movement put a quick stop to the pirate's merry show and allowed his right ear a break. David had his handless arm over his shoulder as he hauled him to Emma's current motel room. The singing resumed.

David's fist was hanging mid-air when the door to Emma's room swung open.

"Hey," she greeted them, a robe comfortably wrapped around her figure and a hint of amusement etching on her face.

"You're still awake?" David asked.

"With that concert, the entire town is."

"Here." David removed his daughter's boyfriend's arm from his shoulder and allowed the man to stumble woozily inside, Emma supporting his frame.

Killian stopped singing within that instant, somewhere between the second verse and the chorus, turning to David one last time. "Don't forget to round up the new recruits, mate!" he said, equally as loud as his earlier vocal performance. "Alas, the lady awaits my return. I bid you fare-night, Liam. Or should I say, _Captain_."

"Liam?" Emma raises her eyebrows questioningly at her father. Killian was already heading towards the bedroom.

"Oh, yeah," David replies with a sheepish look. "He kinda thinks I'm his dead brother when he's drunk."

Emma's eyes widened. She quietly closed the door behind her. "What?" she said with a demanding undertone of 'Explain'.

David positioned his hands in a form of surrender. "In my defence, I used to correct him, but at some point that became…emotionally exhausting. Now I just play along."

"David!" Emma scolded.

"I know! I know. But what am I supposed to say, Emma? 'Sorry but your brother's been dead for over 300 years'? You didn't see the look on his face every time I had to remind him."

A tired sigh passed on Emma's part, followed by an awkward silence. "How long has this been going on?" she asked a few seconds later.

David's mind drifted through the alcohol he consumed, hazily recalling the events. "Remember when I had that little talk with him about your…new…whatever…thing you started-"

"That was three months ago. Wait, is that why you always tag along to his weekly bar nights?"

David nodded. "At first it was just to keep an eye on how things were going between you two, and now…it's just routine, I guess."

"What do you two talk about anyway?"

"Sometimes he wanders about his past and memories between him and 'me'," he physically quoted. "But mostly? You."

She chuckled. "Me?"

"Yeah. He's always going on about how 'you're it', and how I'd, um, 'love to meet' you."

Emma couldn't help the smile that broke her features. She looked down and avoided her father's slightly amused mien.

Emma then looked up again, this time without the smile. "Does he remember…?"

"No. He never does." This made things rather difficult for him on instances where David accidently lets it slip something Killian confided in him as 'his brother', earning him a confused look and a very baffled 'how do you know that?'; following a game of 'what's the best distraction in the room?'. "You should head back inside."

"Yeah, Mum's probably worried about you."

"Goodnight, Emma."

"Oh and, Dad?"

Her newly use of daughterly affection towards him still sent his heart fluttering with joy, the novelty yet to wear off.

"Thank you," she said, "for looking after him."

David gave her a small smile of endearment and nodded before heading down the corridor.

Emma watched her father walk out of sight before she closed the door behind her. She made a beeline for the bedroom where she spotted a very dead-to-the-world Killian, on the bed, lying on his back.

Emma smiled fondly at him before approaching to help take off his shoes and any other excess material that may make him uncomfortable during the night. Once he was only clad in his boxers and undershirt, Emma kissed his forehead and snuggled under the blankets, wrapping herself around him. She nuzzled her face near his neck, falling asleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

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Reviews are life.


	4. Emma's Request

No matter how many times Emma continued to rub her palms up and down her jeans they still sweated like she was in a sauna. She hated to do this (how many times must she put herself through this uncomfortable situation?) but ultimately she was left with no other options, because the people she had asked thus far had either backed up or laughed her out the door or, in Regina's case, told her "this isn't in my department". Emma's head perked up at the sound of Killian, clad in jeans, a tight t-shirt and an open white shirt, walking through the front door. He placed a bag of groceries (good, he got her text) on the table and started pulling out the items she asked him to buy.

"Hey," he said, giving her one of his brilliant smiles.

Emma stood for a second to take him in. It was only a year ago she had decided to open her heart to him, and look where they were now. Sure there was a mountain of many obstacles, some unforeseen (though this was Storybrooke and it taught her to prepare for anything now), but somehow they made it through the hard parts.

"You know how we had Henry's birthday last week?" She decided to cut to the chase. "And that, um, he's getting older…"

"Yes, well, I gathered that's the notion behind birthdays."

Emma almost smiled at his sarcastic comeback and then remembered where the conversation was heading. "You didn't let me finish."

Killian pulled the last item, semi-skimmed milk, out of the bag. He moved to the other side of the table to be closer to her and leaned his backside on it, crossing his arms, his new prosthetic attachment comfortably nestling against his chest. "What's this about, love?"

Emma closed her eyes, where would she even start? "So as I was saying; Henry's getting older, reaching an age where he's, um…" she waved her hand, looking for the right term. "_Y'know…_But he has two _mums_…and we can't ex-exactly tell him…um…that…that is to say we can't _talk_ to him…" she started pacing, "about…_certain things_ because…" she swiftly turned to face him from a distance, "_our_ experiences at-at that age are…n-not exactly the _same_…you know?" She forced herself to look at her boyfriend's bewildered expression, hoping he was catching on.

"Emma." He chuckled, rubbing his scruffy chin. "Darling, are you asking me to give Henry the _sex talk_?"

He always did catch on fast. "Well I-...yes."

This time Killian laughed. Loudly. "This isn't quite my department, love. David, on the other hand-"

"I tried my father. He ended up backing out _during_ his conversation with Henry and then told me to ask you."

"Well then I'm afraid-"

"Killian, please!" Emma moved closer to him. "Henry looks up to you and…" Emma expressively waved her arms around in search of some reasoning. "Think of it as practice when you have kids."

He raised his eyebrow at her, a smirk visibly teasing to rise at the corner of his lips.

Emma's eyes widened at the implication of her words and quickly reacted. "Which is a conversation we're so_ not_ having right now," she said, pointing a finger at him.

Killian didn't say anything but he couldn't help allowing a corner of his lips to rise.

Within that instant Henry walked through the door, his rucksack dropping to his fingers. "Hey," he nodded to them.

"Henry!" Emma said with an unnecessary ample of enthusiasm. "How was school?"

Her son casually shrugged. "Like always - just school," he responded, making his way to his bedroom.

"Please!" Emma pleaded with her boyfriend, placing her gentle hands on the t-shirt underneath his open shirt.

Killian took in her doey, emerald eyes and knew within that instant that he fell into her trap and simply couldn't back out. He sighed, whispering, "As you wish," as he made his way to his, unbeknownst to him, future-stepson's bedroom.

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I imagine Killian will be using a lot of...sailor terms.


	5. A Lifetime of Waiting

It was a nice, quiet evening, if Emma had to say so herself. She and Killian had made yet another attempt in the dating scene. But like every other of their attempts, it was inconveniently interrupted. Emphasises on the 'inconveniently' part because they were in the middle of leaning towards each other for a kiss.

The voices of her parents echoed throughout the apartment as they let themselves in, nevermind the fact that she told them she needed the apartment for herself (and Killian, she murmured the last part quietly to her parents; they say they're okay with it but you never know, although now she was starting to think she was right the first time), for just a small amount of time.

They both bowed their heads down at the setback, each inwardly groaning as they heard the other couple in the room on the other side of the apartment debating something about baby bottles.

"Killian," she started, apologetically. "I'm so sorry, but I promise-"

"I know, I know, love, _next time_." His shoulders sagged in defeat. "When did you say you were moving again?"

"Listen I know it's frustrating now but-"

"Emma," he chuckled, taking her hand in his. "Sweetheart, I spent a year thinking I was never going to see you again. I would wait a lifetime if it meant I'd spend another second with you." He pecked a sweet kiss on her hand.

Emma couldn't help the light giggle that left her lips. It was so embarrassing she wished she was deaf. "Do you say that to all the girls you meet?" she teased, trying gain back some control and step ahead of their game of ongoing flirting.

Killian casually leaned back on his chair as he said, "just the ones that make a divine ravioli," he then sent a wink in her way.

Again, Emma had no control over her body as it sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine and causing her skin to flare up in goosebumps.

Three days. Just three days till she moved in to her new apartment.

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Short but hopefully sweet :)


	6. A Lifetime of Waiting - Part 2

Same universe as the first part :-)

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

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David and Mary-Margaret walked through their front door as they talked about their upcoming plans on how they were going to spend their evening.

"Emma? Are you home?" Snow called out.

There was no answer.

"Oh," Snow caught a whiff of the stench that suddenly engulfed the air. "I think somebody needs a little change below," she cooed to her baby and then turned to her husband.

David lifted his hands in the air in surrender. "Don't look at me, I just changed him twenty minutes ago."

Snow sent him a mock glare. "As opposed to me who changes him most of the day?"

David coward down to her raised eyebrow and sighed. "Okay, you caught me. Those diapers are like a Gordian knot."

Snow lightly snorted. "Come on, Alexander the Great, we'll do it together." She handed David the baby and pulled at the bathroom's doorknob, only to realise it was locked. She knocked the door a few times. "Is anybody in there?"

_"Hey," _a voice, suspiciously like Emma's, responded. "_I'm, uh, I'm in here." _A few splashing sounds followed.

"Oh," Snow replied in a surprised tone as she shared a look with her husband while he cradled their baby. "I didn't know anybody was here."

"_Yeah, I'm- I'm just taking a bath_."

"Alright," David said. "Don't let us ruin your relaxing time. God knows you need it in this town."

Emma's nervous laugh emerged from the other side of the door.

Snow then turned to David and said, "Let's just use the one upstairs." They turned their heel before she stopped suddenly, causing David to almost crash behind her. "By the way I'm going to need to you look after Neal for a few hours while I let Ruby drag me to whatever girl plans she's come up with."

"I can't, I have the night shift."

"Get Killian to cover for you."

David decided it was a reasonable choice as he handed his wife the baby and dug his hand into his back pocket to pull his phone out. "I'll call him now." He heard his wife make a teasing remark about Hook owning a phone and they both chuckled. A few seconds passed when ringing was then heard in the distance. Snow and her husband exchange bewildered looks as they searched for the source of the ringing, only to find it echoing from other side of the bathroom door.

David raised his eyebrow at Snow as her cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. He cut the call and knocked warily on the bathroom door where he presumed Killian was…along with his daughter. He bit down a shudder.

There was no answer but a sound of light splashing and a few murmers. David sighed. "Hook, I know you're in there."

He heard a few more lowly mutters then a deep voice cleared its throat. "_Is there something I can help you with there, Dave_?" Killian's familiar accent reverberated.

David didn't even ask. "Just cover my night shift."

"_Happy to do it, mate_." David could sense the nervous undertone in his reply and mentally smirked. Good.

The Charming duo then headed upstairs, an awkward silence befalling upon them, proceeding to pretend the earlier exchange didn't happen, for all their sakes.

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Not that I need to explain myself but…I had dream with CS bathing together.


	7. Halloween Day

Fourteen-year old Liam Jones flipped his parent's wardrobe open, browsing through each item only to look for a specific one in mind.

"Hey," Daphne, his seven-year-old sister, strolled into their parents' bedroom and placed herself onto the mattress. "I was thinking we could start our trick-or-treating with Leroy's house. We have a score to settle." She smiled maliciously, although it came out more charming through her little jaw and missing tooth.

"I'm not taking you this year, Daph. Henry will. I'm going to a costume party," he declared with a boasting chest and hormonally processing voice.

It was then Daphne noticed how concentrated he was at his current task. "Whatcha doing?"

"Looking…for…something," he replied as he pulled back one of his mum's dresses - a bright pink wear with a belt in the middle and a long, flared skirt. Liam vaguely recalled a story behind it where his mum told him one night.

"In mum and dad's closet?"

"Aha!" Liam proclaimed the next instant, pulling out a large cardboard box from beneath the clothes.

"What's that?" Daphne said, leaning forward with sudden interest.

"My costume." He placed the large box on the mattress next to his sister and picked up the cover. He pulled out the first item tucked in – a long, leather jacket that was an inch of scraping the floor once Liam swung it on (even though Liam was quite tall for his age). A large grin befell his face as he appraised his new attire in the full-body mirror behind the closet door. "What do you think?"

"Cool!" Daphne beamed and pulled out another item from the box – a red vest, and put her arms through each side. She looked down again when her eye caught something else, something shiny. "_Whoa!_"

Liam followed her attention and found her pulling out a black brace with a hook attached to it. He immediately snatched it from her fingers, causing her to respond in protests.

"Give it back!" she exclaimed.

"No! This is for me." Liam lifted the item in the air, but his sister was relentless.

"It's not even yours. That's-not-fair," she said as she jumped to try and make a grab for it and failing being only half her brother's size. "I wanna dress up as dad too!"

"His clothes don't even fit you!" he rebuked.

"Neither do you!"

"But I fit them better!"

"What are you two doing?"

Both heads immediately turned to the source of the interruption, realising it was their grandma who stood with her arms crossed and her long hair pinned up. Liam immediately pulled his arm down and shifted it to his back, blocking his grandma's view of the hook and brace.

Snow raised an eyebrow and shifted her gaze down to her son-in-law's box, eyeing it warily. Taking a quick, deep breath she said, "Your father _knows _you're looking through his things, right?"

Liam and Daphne were smart enough to know it was a rhetorical question. Their grandma already knew the answer.

Then without warning, Daphne yelled, "It was all Liam!" before running out the room, unaware she was still wearing her father's red vest.

Snow tried to hide the amused grin that was threatening to compromise her disciplined stance. "Liam?"

The young teenager shrugged, relenting. "I just wanted to dress up as dad for Halloween."

Snow finally allowed her shoulders to sag. She sat down and patted a seat next to her for her grandson to join. "Then just ask him, sweetheart. I'm sure he would-"

"I did. But he wouldn't let me take the hook, which everybody knows is the best part," he ended with a burst of certainty and awareness only a teenager could muster.

"Then it's probably for the best. That hook can be dangerous if-"

"But I'll take care of it, I swear!"

His grandma smiled at him. "It's not me you have to convince." A silence fell between them. "Oh, is that why you bought that black hair dye?" she chuckled, ruffling Liam's blond locks.

"_Anybody home?_" the sound of his father's voice echoed the house, followed by the faint slam of a closing door. He heard his little sister eagerly welcome him, and their mum it seems, home. A second later he heard his father curiously say, "_Where did you get that vest?_"

Liam exchanged looks with his grandmother as his father's footsteps got louder until he was at the door, carrying Daphne. He spotted the two of them sitting on the mattress. Then his eyes found the hook in his hand. He gently let Daphne's feet touch the ground, the both of them now approaching near the bed.

Not a second later passed by when his mum's head pops by the edge of the door. "Are we having a party?" she joked, taking in the amount of people filling the bedroom. But when her eyes fell to Liam still wearing the long leather jacket and holding the brace she quickly caught grasp of the situation. "Hey, uh, mum. Do you wanna help me out in the kitchen?"

His grandma immediately stood up. "I'd love too!" He sent her a pleading look but she threw him an encouraging smile.

"How about you, little missy?" his mum asked Daphne.

"Okay!" the dark-haired girl eagerly replied.

"Ah-ah!" Emma pointed at her daughter's new choice of clothing.

Daphne sighed in disappointment and started shrugging off the vest until their father stopped her. "That's alright, sweetheart. You go ahead and wear it."

"Thanks, dad!" she hugged her father and made her way to join her mother and grandmother to unpack the groceries.

Now it was just him and his father.

"Liam, I told you that the hook was not to be-"

"I know, but I'll take care of it! You know I will. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you-"

"Then what is it?!"

He watched his father rub the back of his dark hair and let out a heavy sigh. "Let me ask you something, lad. Why are you so adamant about wearing my old attire?"

_Because the theme is to dress up as our heroes, _Liam thought. But when he didn't give a verbal answer his father continued.

"My boy," he said taking a seat beside him on the mattress. "I've worn these clothes for over three centuries and-" he paused. "I wasn't…I wasn't a very good man, in them."

Liam blinked a few times. "That's not what mum says."

Killian raised his brow. "Oh? And what has she been saying?"

He shrugged. "That…" he looked up at his dad beside him. "That she fell for the pirate in those clothes."

Killian's lips parted, but no words fell through them.

When Liam was about Daphne's age, his mother told him stories about her adventures with dad. How she was intrigued by him the very moment they met, how they literally went through time and different realms first as enemies, then as partners, to friends, and eventually as two people falling in love. Liam remembered asking her when was the exact moment she knew she would fall, and he watched her smile to herself and then getting up to pull out his copy of Jack and the Beanstalk. He didn't understand the relevance until he was ten.

His father finally gave up on trying to give his initial response and closed the gap between his lips, still processing the information. He smiled despite himself and let out a long sigh. "Promise me that you'll be very careful, especially around others."

Liam's entire face brightened. "I promise!"

"It's much heavier than it looks. And _never _wave it around when you dance with your lady."

Liam went in for a hug, in which his father immediately responded too. "Thanks a bunch, dad! I'll never forget this!"

And Liam lived up to his word. That Halloween night he left the house as an ecstatic son and into the party as a very fashionable pirate. It turned out to be one of his favourite Halloweens, and not just because he had won the costume competition.

* * *

A/N: I initially started this out with humour in mind, but then it turned angsty. LIKE EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE *WAILS*

Also I wrote this really, really late and my eyes were literally drooping so excuse any mistakes or nonsensical phrases.


	8. Planks and Scallywags

"You did _what_?!" Emma yelled at the top of her lungs at the two mischievous siblings sitting on the living room sofa. At least they had the audacity to _try _and hide their infuriating smirks (their infuriating smirks almost parallel to their father's), unlike David and Henry sitting on the kitchen counter behind her stuffing their faces with pork rines and clearly enjoying the show.

"In our defence, we didn't hurt anybody," Daphne shrugged. "Not physically, anyway."

"No, just mentally scar them the rest of their lives," their mum had retorted, then turned to her son. "And _you_. What have you got to say for yourself?"

"Mum, it's no big deal," Liam casually waved. "We were just having a laugh."

"You're _eighteen_ for crying out loud, heading off to college. Don't you think it's time to grow up a little?"

"Mum-"

"_And _you're setting a terrible example for your sister who's going to start high school soon." She began pacing, her father and her eldest son watching with amusement in the distance.

"Look it was the yearly senior prank. It's tradition!"

"Except that it wasn't just a prank, Liam. It was _dangerous_. You could've been seriously hurt. How could you even involve your sister?"

"She involved herself!"

"_She_'s sitting right here!"

"Why do we even have TV?" Henry joked with his grandpa.

Emma whirled her attention towards her daughter. "Do you realise you could've been suspended before you even started? Or worse, _expelled_?"

"That was actually a really good Hermione Granger expression," Daphne jested, attempting to bring some light into her mum's red angry eyes, but only to earn herself a glare instead.

Emma crossed her arms. "I'm serious. You're lucky your father had been teaching a class and your grandfather had been in the area to put a stop to it."

Daphne finally cut her playful act and let her mum's words sink in, "We know. Dad already gave us the lecture."

"Oh I'm perfectly aware, because he was ranting about it in my ear the entire night."

Her daughter snorted. "Of course he was."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," she dismissed.

Emma raised her eyebrow as if to say, _you better tell me now or so help me God-_

"Okay, look," Liam cut in, "we love dad and all. It's just that he…"

"He what?"

Daphne intervened, "He just doesn't know how to have fun."

Henry and David started laughing hysterically from their spot in the kitchen, causing the three to turn their attention to them. David muttered, "who's the fun one now, _mate_," under his breath but it was almost impossible to catch with his gasping for air.

The teenage siblings mistook their amusement for agreement. "See? Even they know!" Daphne said.

"Can I tell them? Can I please tell them, Mum?" Henry was so excited he almost bounced on the spot.

"Settle," she warned her eldest, then took a seat on the table in front of the sofa. "Let me ask you something. Where do you think your 'playful side' comes from?"

"Obviously not from you guys," Daphne laughed.

"Watch the attitude."

"Sorry."

"Mum, please can I tell them?" Henry said, his grandfather grinning beside him.

"Tell us what?" Liam questioned.

"Your father," Emma started, "well, before he became your father, led a _very_ long life of, um, 'fun'." Not that she would call it fun because she knew how much her husband suffered beneath the drinks and women (so to speak), but she needed to make a point here.

"What are you talking about?" Liam asked.

Emma sighed. "This really isn't in my place to say."

"Mum, you can't just start something like that and not finish it," Daphne said and leaned forward in her seat on the couch. "What is it?"

Emma began to shift uncomfortably. This was not her secret to tell. If her husband wanted to tell them, he would tell them.

After a few seconds of contemplating Emma decided to leave it up to Killian.

David didn't. "He was a pirate."

Emma threw the most vicious glare she could muster at her father and watched him cower beneath it.

What followed after was the most silent a room had been in the house since Daphne had asked where babies came from at the age of five.

The next had been the loudest - Daphne and Liam laughed. Very loudly.

"You're right," Daphne said. "Why _do _we have TV?"

"Okay, Mum," Liam said once his laughter died down. "We know that Dad loves to sail but isn't calling him a pirate a bit much?"

"Oh, he wasn't just any pirate." Henry made a beeline towards the DVD cabinet and pulled out a film.

"Wait, you're actually serious?" Liam said. "But he's just…_dad_. I mean, I know he can be a bit bossy when he tries to teach me sailing but that doesn't make him-"

"Bam!" Henry shoved the site of the DVD in his siblings' line of vision, almost whacking his brother in the face with the move.

"Peter Pan?" Daphne said. "I think you need to brush up on your fairytales there, Henry."

"Look more closely." Henry's fingers lightly tapped at the small figure in the lower half of the cover. The figure was looking up at the boy in green, his sword waving in the air with an expression of utter spite on his face.

"Captain Hook?"

"Wait," Liam held his hands out to stop whatever was going to come out of Henry's mouth next. "What're you saying? Are you trying to tell me that Dad is…he's…"

"That's not possible," Daphne said. "That would make him-"

"Over three hundred years old," Emma filled in, watching their jaws drop comically.

Daphne and Liam blinked. "I don't believe you," Liam finally said, though the look on his face told another story as he watched his older brother, his mother and his grandfather all with the same serious expression.

Henry held a finger up as if to say _one minute_ as he took off. He re-emerged within the next minute holding a shiny item in his hand - a hook, to be exact. "Believe us now?"

For the first time since this entire ordeal, Daphne and Liam were not laughing.

xXx

Killian walked through the door and removed his jacket. Only a few hours passed since Daphne and Liam discovered the truth. They were now playing a videogame, but when their father walked through they exchanged a smirk.

"Ahoy there, dad!" Liam called out.

Their father nodded towards their direction and went to greet their mother in the kitchen.

"Ah, shiver me timbers, you beat me again!" Liam suddenly yelled.

Both Killian and Emma looked up and stared strangely at them.

He yanked Daphne's controller as she yelled, "You stole my booty, Scallywag!"

Killian's eyes widened and if Emma hadn't felt so guilty for letting Killian's little secret to get out she would've found it hilarious, but instead Emma's palm slapped her forehead, _those little-_

"Avast ye matey!" he retorted, though he had a feeling he hadn't used the term correctly. He made a mental note to ask his dad later because, _whoa_, he's a freaking pirate.

"If you have a problem with me winning then you can _walk the bloody plank!_"

Killian turned to Emma as she lowered her stance sheepishly. "Darling, what's happening to our children?"

Emma nervously grinned and shrugged her shoulders, but when Killian turned around to face the teenagers Emma went out of her way to silently get them to _quit it_.

"Why are they talking like- like-"

"You?" Liam said, both him and his sister had paused the game to stare mischievously at their parents.

Before Killian could reply, his wife held her hand out in his defence. "Rest assured, your father never spoke like that…much."

"Why would I speak like tha- _who _speaks like that?!" Killian turned to his family for answers and realisation immediately fell on him a few seconds later. He turned to Emma, "Did you-?" then to his teenage children, "Do they-?" Emma nodded guiltily. He took a few seconds to collect himself before pointing at the kids, "You two," he used his thumb to point towards their bedrooms, "go do your homework."

Maybe it had something to do with the sudden serious tone in his voice and the grave look on his face, but without a word they moved from their seats and did as their father had asked, _for once_, Killian thought, or most likely halfway because he didn't hear their footsteps heading upstairs.

After making sure it was only him and Emma in the room, he continued. "You told them?" his voice cracked with betrayal.

Emma uncrossed her arms. "Killian, they were bound to find out at some point."

"No, they weren't. I tried to make sure of it."

"Why? It was a huge part of your life-"

"A _part _they were not supposed to find out about. They were never supposed to find out about this," he emphasised again.

"Honey, we live in Storybrooke. Eventually, they were never _not _supposed to find out."

"I can't believe you told them, after you _promised _me."

"Okay, I'm sorry I outted you, even though it was technically Dad who did it, but don't you think you're overreacting?"

"I'm not overreacting."

"Then why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

"Because it was at my lowest, Emma," his voice had risen. "It was filled with spite, grief, regret, insurmountable guilt. How am I supposed to face my own children now that they know I was a- a-"

"Killian, I know you weren't always your best but it's such a huge part of you and you're acting as if you're ashamed of it."

"_I AM _ashamed of it, Emma! I was _scum_."

A silence had fallen between them. Then Emma crossed her arms and scowled at him. "Then I guess I should be ashamed too."

Killian furrowed his eyebrows. "Why?"

"Because I fell in love with that pirate."

The air softened between them almost instantly.

Emma took a few steps closer to him. "Killian," she started as her hands began to soothingly rub his arms from his shoulders to his hand and wrist. "That life you led, for three hundred years, is what made you who you are today. You are Killian Jones – a pirate, a naval lieutenant, a history teacher, an amazing husband, a wonderful father and stepfather, and so much more. They're pieces of _you_, pieces that I love, and I wouldn't take any of them away." Killian lowered his gaze, but she took a hold of his cheek and lifted it to face her again. "Especially not the pirate part," she winked, and then looked sincerely into his blue eyes. "You were never, _ever_ scum. A bit of a dog, I'll admit, but never scum. And I refuse to let you believe that."

She slid her arms gently around his waist and pulled him close, taking his bottom lip between hers and then laying her head on his shoulder, allowing him to hold her close and whisper the words that always still created a swirl of emotions in her stomach, "I love you."

xXx

Later that evening Daphne and Liam sat on the dining room table as they concentrated on their work. After eavesdropping on their parents' conversation they both felt it was time for them to sit back and reflect on their actions and _holy hell _their father's secret other life.

_Three hundred-year-old pirate_. Now they know why he taught history and volunteered at the docks. But more questions arose than answers.

Why did he become a pirate?

Wasn't he in the navy?

What happened to his hand? Was it Peter Pan who cut it off?

What happened to his ship? His crew?

Why did he give up that life?

God they hoped he never had a perm. Three centuries or not, they were never cool.

Killian walked into the vicinity later on while the two were finishing up. He stopped at their table and sighed.

"So…" he began. "Now you know." Much to Killian's worry, his children hadn't said a word. The longer the silence held the more fear gnawed at his mind.

_They hate you._

_They'll never talk to you again._

_You disgust them._

_They hate you._

Liam finally broke the silence. "Can you tell us stories?"

"I know I should've told you but-" Killian paused. That wasn't the response he was expecting. "You wanna hear them?"

"Uh, yeah!" they said in unison with the underline of '_DUH!'_

"Captain freaking Hook. That's-" Daphne rummaged through her brain for the right words to describe her feelings on the subject. "You're practically a celebrity!"

He chuckled. "Your grandparents and mother are royalty."

"Yeah but they never had a flying ship!"

Killian awkwardly scratched the back of his ear and laughed. "Alright," he shrugged. The earlier fear now easily melting away to be replaced with relief. He took a seat across from them. "What do you want to hear about first?"

An hour later and Killian was so immersed in telling his stories and the teenagers listening that they missed Emma standing by the doorway with a fond smile, watching her family with so much affection.

To this day, she still couldn't express the amount gratitude to the life that brought her here, to this day, to them.

* * *

A/N: Had to write this at work because somehow I always end up getting prompts on my way there. Sorry it was rushed at the end but this bitch took up my entire day and I got exhausted.

Also I ended up developing a bigger storyline in my mind where this would be the prologue and the real story is that Liam and Daphne end up in the past where they see Hook in his "glory" days and they have to try and get back without screwing anything up. But ehh, who wants to read that.


	9. The Best Days

Henry Mills flipped through every useless channel (or every channel period), of the television set. It was his first day off in weeks and his mother insisted that he'd spend the day with the family. Except, what he really wanted to do was catch up on his sleep.

When he finally gave up and turned off the TV altogether Liam had plopped down on the sofa beside him.

"Hey, you up for another round?" he said.

Henry snorted. "Please, Liam, I am a mature adult. I'm too old to wrestle with children."

Liam ignored the temptation to bite back at the remark of his age (even though he was only two years short of being an adult_ thank you very much_), and instead settled on calmly replying in a condescending manner (which was way more effective when it came to his petty squabbles with Henry). "What's the matter, Henry? Afraid your little, _child_ brother is going to beat you again?"

Henry scowled. "That," he jabbed a finger at Liam's direction, "was a tie, and you know it."

"Was it? Or did I let it be, to save the embarrassment of my mature, adult brother." Liam gleefully watched the vein in his brother's forehead get bigger. It reminded him of the time mum's vein ballooned when she reprimanded him about ditching school that one time. _Wait for it…_

"Oh that's it," Henry swiftly stood, Liam in sync with the movement. "It's on!" Within the next instant they grabbed at each other and dropped to the ground in front of the couch.

The tussling grabbed the attention of their sister and her friend, Lisa, in the dining room just behind the couch as they tried to finish their homework.

Daphne almost growled under her breath whilst her friend watched with amusement. With a loud, irritated tone, Daphne yelled, "MUM, HENRY AND LIAM ARE WRESTLING AGAIN!"

"_TELL THEM NOT TO BREAK ANYTHING!_" her mum yelled back in a slight frantic voice.

"Hey, meat-heads, Mum said don't break anything," she said to them before turning back to her work.

"Ugh, our school books are so useless," Lisa said beside her.

"Tell me about it, I can't even find the stupid date of this battle."

"What battle?" Liam said breathlessly over the couch as his brother had him in a headlock.

"The Spanish Armada one."

"Just ask Dad, he probably _fought_ in it-ARGH!" Liam mustered up his strength to twist his torso and pull down Henry in a headlock.

"Oh yeah," Daphne said, smiling alongside her friend. "HEY, DAD, WHAT YEAR DID THE BATTLE WITH THE SPANISH ARMADA TAKE PLACE?"

"_1588!_" he called back a second later.

"THANKS, DAD!"

After they filled in the question Lisa spoke again, "You know, Daph, for someone who's ancient, your dad still looks pretty spectacular."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that."

* * *

A/N: Because I can't seem to get enough of CS children.


	10. The Ghost of Eton's Pirate

_Tell me something, love, in these stories, what was I like? Other than a villain…_

_ Handsome, I gather?_

_ If waxed moustaches and perms are your thing…_

-x-

"Liam, this is ridiculous."

"Come on, little brother. You said so yourself you wanted to be captain."

"Not like this! Not like-"

"Oh, enough with your whining, Killian. You should be thrilled that you're getting direct orders from the King himself."

"When I joined the Navy I wasn't aware I would be signing up to go undercover as a pirate captain." Liam heard Killian's muffled huff through the closed door. "Besides, _you're_ captain. You're the one who should be doing this. Not me."

"I think you may be selling yourself short there, brother. The King had asked _you _and we _both _have faith in your abilities."

"Two people out of the entire kingdom's military. How reassuring."

"All the more reason for you to do this – to prove them wrong. That you do have a place on my ship, and not just because you're my brother."

Killian didn't retort after that and continued to change into his new attire for the mission.

"Oh, don't forget this." Liam opened the door and threw the item at his brother. He almost choked with amusement at the horrified look Killian had just sent him.

"No," Killian replied, firmly.

"It's part of the disguise. Besides, was it not the other day that you decided to grow your hair out?"

"Yes, but I-"

"Then you may as well cheat a glimpse of what your future holds. Unless you're too afraid that I would be right and you will look bloody well ridiculous with long hair."

Killian stopped short and then slammed the door in his brother's face. This time Liam couldn't hold back his amusement and roared with laughter. A moment later Killian yelled through the door, "Why must you insist on these? They aren't even respectable pirate's garbs. What kind of daft, seafaring man would ever wear such tasteless habiliments?"

Liam rolled his eyes at his brother's continuous choice to whine and resisted the urge to groan at him. He rubbed at his forehead, feeling a brotherly-induced headache coming on. "That's the idea. You need to create a reputation, a certain image. And speaking of which…" Liam pulled out one final item from the large box beside him. "To complete the guise, here's the final piece, for your right arm. It's a good thing you're left-handed, brother, since you're to be underestimated."

Killian opened the door and took the item from his brother's hand. "But won't I have more of an advantage with both limbs?"

"This is a better advantage, because it will earn you a place amongst the ex-servicemen, as many pirates are. You will have knowledge and experience from both sides. It shall make your image more convincing.

"Remember, you must prove yourself to be one of them. Using me, the King's Naval Captain, as your captive will earn you a respectable amount of intimidation amongst the unlawful populace. And that is when we will be able to strike for more information."

Killian nodded and, for once during this entire exchange much to Liam's relief, acquiesced with the idea. Whilst his brother finished gathering everything for his new, temporary identity, the rest of the crew, who Liam had formally seen them in respectable naval garments, made their way down to the cabin to present their new, temporary looks in addition.

Liam nodded in approval and knocked on the door that masked Killian's appearance. "When you're ready, brother."

The door opened, causing every sailor to look at their new captain, starting from the black boots, to the iron hook that replaced his right hand, to the large red coat that covered almost the entirety of his frame, until their eyes rest on Killian's bowed head, giving the crew the sight of the feather that placed a home on his maroon-tinted hat. Finally their captain's head had risen up, causing the black ringlets of his dark faux-hair to casually drop onto his shoulders.

There was a moment's pause for the crew to mentally register the appearance of the man that will be in command for the next couple of weeks…

…before the entire room burst into uncontrollable laughter; Liam amongst the loudest of the bunch.

"Well, I'm glad you all find this funny," Killian said, pointing the hook at them. "Keep laughing and I may just _accidentally_ clasp your shoulders with my right hook."

This only seemed to make their guffaws louder, knowing Killian was one of the tamest soldiers amidst them.

Liam pulled him into a side-hug as his laughter died down. "Come now, Lieutenant – I beg your pardon – _Captain_. We're only having a good laugh, a much needed good laugh given the journey we're about to set sail."

"Even the crew look more fearsome than I do," Killian grumbled.

"Impossible," Liam boomed. "No pirate that ever sailed the seas shall be feared as much as the ruthless Captain Hook. At least that's how we'll make it to be."

Killian threw him a perplexed gaze.

"Captain _James_ Hook," Liam said, his tone suggesting that he was still testing the name.

Killian's eyes waved downwards to his right arm and then back up to his brother. "Clever," he deadpanned.

The crew let out a few more good chuckles between them before they all headed up, ready to begin the journey to their upcoming destination.

When Liam saw the worried look in his brother's eyes, his face softened. "Hey, at least now you'll finally be able to show them how capable you are and how much of a great leader I _know_ you can be."

Killian's lips formed into a smile, it may not have reached his ears, but it was enough to reassure his older brother that he was glad Liam was with him on this journey. Killian took the next few moments to examine the cabin that will be his home for the upcoming weeks, maybe even months. "What is to be the name of this ship that shall be our pretence?" he asked his brother, who was caressing the spines of books that hung on a large, wooden bookshelf.

Liam smirked. "Well, since you won the bet for naming the _Jewel of the Realm_, what's say you let me take this opportune time to use my name that lost to yours?"

xXx

Weeks passed by and the mission continued to gather more information on the opposing end of their kingdom. Rumours had started to surface, just as planned. It began with rumours of a man with a hook for a hand, and from there, it branched out rather scandalously. One tavern had spoken of man with a cadaver-like but handsomely appearance and melancholy blue eyes that flamed a dangerous red when incensed, another rumoured of his ruthless captaining but gentlemanly ways of capturing women. Soon, the vast community of seaman began inquiring the true identity of this man with a hook, because surely, that must not be his true name? Yet another Inn had countered that to reveal who he really was would set the country in a blaze…

xXx

The Jolly Roger had infiltrated an enemy's brig. The mission was now one step away from the disclosure of his majesty's double-crossing spy. The crew had managed to capture the pirates and discreetly deliver them to the country's prison cells. All but one particular sailor.

Amongst these treacherous pirates was a cabin boy, no more than fourteen years of age, hidden below deck, until Killian, doing a final check up on the ship, found him squatting near a barrel of fruit.

The boy's impressionable eyes had widened with fear. Not wanting to imprint the idea of threatening to kill the boy but also wanting to maintain the image for his guise, Killian had to make an exception for a new approach to cover this particular situation without uncovering his true, affable nature.

"What is your name, boy?" he asked.

The young boy gulped and shakily answered, "Charles. Charles D-David Barrie."

He wore a rather high-tailored range of clothing and bared no weapons on him. He looked visibly harmless. "And what must a young, noble-dressed lad like you be doing on a barbaric ship like this?"

"I-well-I-"

"Spit it out, boy."

"It was a bet."

"Pardon?"

"My friends a-at Eton had made bets I wouldn't be able to sneak in a pirate ship and-and-"

Killian held up his hand. "I'm able to fill in the rest. I was once a young lad much like yourself not too long ago."

"Please, sir, I'm just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I don't even know how to use a sword very well."

Killian eyed the young lad and tried to hide his sympathy that was pressuring to physically break his stoic expression. "Well, Charles, I shall provide you a moment to gather yourself and turn away."

"Why?"

"Because a pirate I may be, I still hold a code of honour. I believe it is bad form to battle an opponent without an arm."

The boy blinked a few times and cautiously stood up, slowly backing away. When he realised the Captain was keeping his word he dashed out of the ship, but not before turning back to glance at the pirate that had spared his life with an expression of bewilderment and fascinated awe. Little did the pirate captain know that the boy he had just mercifully spared will live to tell tales of him to his future children, grandchildren, his great grandchildren and the generation that shall follow.

xXx

"_Killian_? Killian!"

Killian looked up to meet the confusion in Emma's face from across the library. "Hm?"

"You've been staring at the cover of that book for the past ten minutes." She walked up to him and chuckled as soon as she caught a glimpse of the title. "You sure you wanna read that?"

"This? I've experience centuries of it, and vile experience, mind you. Why on earth would I want to relive it?"

Emma's face dropped and Killian became worried that he had upset her. "I'm sorry, you're right. I shouldn't hav-"

"No, no," he rubbed her shoulder with his right hand. "I apologise for snapping. And it's not the story that has me perplexed. It's…the author. The name sounds familiar."

"If it is and you did come across the guy, I wouldn't be surprised."

"No, I'm fairly certain I've never met this man."

"In the book he even describes your blue eyes and your "gentlemanly"" -she quoted- "ways and that good form/bad form jazz. It can't be a coincidence. You've must've met him."

"Well, I don't recognise his picture. But his name…"

"Guys, I found it!" Belle's voice rang from the opposite shelf, and Killian and Emma realised what they were originally doing before the book came to sight. Killian placed the book in the pile it belonged, leaving his mind to linger on the mystery until they put a stop to Storybrooke's next monster.

* * *

A/N: C'mon, Barrie must've found out somehow.


	11. The Introduction

Peace had finally befallen upon Storybrooke from the wrath of the Snow Queen and all was well between its citizens once the the Shattered Spell had come to an end. Emma stood with her loved ones in the station, discussing their next step with Belle. Regina was embracing Henry after they were reunited, and Elsa stood with her sister and Kristoff near the corner.

Activity was put to a halt in the room as Emma began directing orders. She approached Elsa. "You guys all okay?" They nodded, signalling Emma to continue. "Good, I've arranged a room for you all at Granny's until we clean up the rest of this mess." She took a hold of Killian's arm, lovingly squeezing it to remind herself that he is still here, his heart back where it belonged - with her. "This is Killian." Kristoff greeted him with a handshake. "He's going to help you adjust for the time being."

"Hi there," Anna then shook his hand. "Wow, you're gorgeous!"

"Hey!" Kristoff rebuffed behind her. The entire room turned to stare at them with silent amusement.

"Oh God, did I say that out loud? I didn't mean it!" she said to Killian's raised brow. "I mean of course I did, it's not like it's not _obvious-_" she waved her free hand in front of his face, her other still greeting Killian's, "-but I didn't mean to actually _say_ it, I mean it's not like you don't already know because you probably get it all the time-"

"Apologies for the interruption, Lass," Killian said, physically having to refrain himself from chuckling. "But may I have my hand back, please?"

"Huh? OH!" Anna immediately pulled back her hand. "I'm so sorry! Of course you can have it back, especially since you're going to need it because it's your only hand-"

"OKAY!" Kristoff and Elsa said as they gently held Anna's arms on either side, stopping her from digging herself a deeper hole and pulling her away from the pirate, Elsa visibly mouthing "_I'm so sorry" _at Killian and Emma as they directed Anna outside.

A second after the amusing introduction, David spoke up, "Maybe it's best if I go instead?" he offered. This way he may at least save some of Anna's dignity.

"Good idea!" Emma chuckled, David already halfway to the door. "Wow, that was beyond awkward," she said to the rest of the group.

Killian shrugged. "I like her."

* * *

A/N: That parallel line has to happen. It is law.


	12. Next Time, Wait For An Answer

Snow White swiftly entered her apartment after she realised she forgot the baby powder in the bathroom halfway through her journey to the mayor's office in the car with her husband and baby.

She made a beeline for the bathroom that was currently occupied by her daughter showering and knocked. "Hey, Emma, I'm just going to get something in there. I hope you don't mind."

Before her daughter could protest Snow walked in, the steam fogging her view, relieved the door wasn't locked because she was on a tight schedule. But that relief was quickly washed away when the vicinity cleared and she was met with a sight she was praying to avoid when her daughter started dating. Snow took no more than a split minute to back out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her.

"Oh my God!" Snow cried out, cupping her face with her hands. "I am so sorry, Emma! I thought- I-" she scrunched her face. "I thought you were _alone_. I'm so sorry!" Snow shook her head in attempt to rid the image of Emma and Killian doing unquestioningly obvious things from her mind whilst inwardly scolding at her stupid impulse to walk straight in and, for once, wishing at the welcome for another memory curse upon her.

Once she reached her car and entered the passenger seat, David asked, "Where's the powder?"

"We'll buy a new one. Or ten. And keep them in our room from now on."

David furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and amusement at his wife sudden suggestion. "Why? What happe-?"

"David, please just drive."

He did, and thankfully he never asked about her weird behaviour again. But he did question at the strangely awkward silence during dinner with the family that evening, leaving Emma to adopt an embarrassing shade of crimson, Hook to chortle in his drink behind his infuriating smirk and Snow to change the subject in a terrifyingly quick manner.

* * *

A/N: Where's a memory curse when you need one?


	13. Next Time, Wait For An Answer(Alternate)

**Tumblr request: "**I loved that fic of Snow catching CS in the shower and was wondering if you could do one where Emma thinks she's hiding Killian in her bed but Snow's knows all along that he's there? Thanks :***"**

A little warning: I'm very inexperienced when it comes to writing something even close to smut, but here goes.

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

* * *

With a smirk that offered sinful promises Killian's descend to her aching need was torturously slow.

Finally, they had the apartment all to themselves and they sure as hell were going to use every single minute of it exploring the lines, the curves, the scars, the tattoos, or whatever they had yet to discover about one another since they started dating, something they held off for an absurdly long time.

For the record, she hadn't intended for it to get that far. Her baby brother was still in another room sleeping. But something about Killian gently rocking the little fella to sleep sent a surge of sudden, unexpected want that started from her lively tongue, to her craving breasts and down to an area that was now longing for his attention. He hadn't noticed her watching him, the kind smile on his face, the deep throaty hums that made his Adam's apple curtsy, as he bent to lay the sleeping child and cocoon him with blankets, giving Emma a good view of what his dark blue jeans generously offered.

Her heart was screaming to _jump him. Jump him. _All in good time, she placated herself, because they had the place to themselves.

And then she realised, _they had the place to themselves._

Emma quickly moved to the living room and waited for him to walk out and close her brother's door. She glanced at the mirror hanging on the wall to unbutton the top half of her shirt to give a show of one of her favourite bras (that she will outright refuse to admit that she recently bought it for an occasion she may or may not have planned for) and fixed her hair (not that it won't be in vain in the next moment), as she saw him walk out, the sleeves of his white shirt pulled to his elbows, his black vest hugging the torso she couldn't wait to trail with her hands.

Emma swallowed. Not that she didn't enjoy how the bastard carried the dark colours wickedly that usually told her '_you think I look good now? Wait till you see what's under these clothes'_, but the brighter shirts expressed a sense of modesty – only a sense of it though, that infuriating smugness that came with the swag of his walk was still there, still telling her to stop denying how much he really does look _damn_ _good_. Mind you she'll probably never admit it to him.

As soon as he was within her range she gave to her impulses, for once, and jumped him, putting a stop to whatever he was about to tell her. Killian had been slightly taken aback, using the wall to balance them both for a second with his left and swinging his right arm (with the baby monitor in his hand) around her waist, but he met her enthusiasm just the same, probably even more as she took in his moan of approval. Her thighs tightened around his hips while Emma travelled down his jaw and toughened her kisses once she reached his neck, unaware that he already carried them to her room. He planted the both of them onto her mattress, his face snuggling into her neck, as he clumsily placed the baby monitor on her dresser. In just a matter of short minutes shirts, vests, jeans, sweaters, and a black brace were scattered on the floor of her room and all that was now left were the necessities and silent promises.

She relaxed beneath him as he started with her collarbone, his experienced tongue already leaving Emma shallow in her breathing and the cool metal of his charms goosebumps all over her skin, and in an agonisingly slow pace he continued his journey to the top half of her breasts, his fingers sliding with the curves of their weight; his lips reached her stomach, to which she arched into his lips, and with a slightly not-so-gentle tug of a handful of his hair, Emma urged Killian to, for lack of better phrasing – not that she could think under her haze of hunger, _get on with it_.

And he did. Again, and again, and again, his tongue performing a rhythmic pattern, a structure of a song that would start with an introduction, giving you a preview of how it was about to make you feel. Then the song builds from the first verse and the first chorus, to the second verse and the second chorus, to the reach of the bridge. The rhythm was now changing to keep the audience pleasured while taking them closer to that inevitable end. All the raw emotions the song had made you build during its time were about to burst from their containment. The eager performer, as if they had been holding back their entire life, was now finally getting the chance to sing their melody. The final chorus made its round, the singer prolonging that final key that pitched higher and higher and _higher_…and then gently soothing the key alongside the end of the song's course.

Emma's eyes opened in an instant, her chest heaving in short breaths, and she gathered what little strength she had left to reach for him…until she heard a door slam. Bracing herself on her elbows Emma's widened eyes met Killian's, both of them struck till from alarm.

She looked at the digital clock beside her and did a mental count in her head. It had only been twenty minutes since her parents left for their night off – what the hell were they doing back so early?

Wait. The door.

_The DOOR_.

They didn't close the-

"Emma?"

At the sound of her mother's voice Emma set the ball of her foot on Killian's back between his shoulders and roughly yanked him down face-first onto the mattress, earning a quick '_oof' _from him in return as she tossed the thick, furry, winter blanket over him and up to her shoulders; and without a moment to spare Snow White casually walked into her room.

"Hey, I-" her mother halt in her path, her eyes sweeping over the scattered clothes on the floor and then to her flushed-looking daughter. Her eyes then trailed down the bed, her brow rising higher with every inch of it she took in. "I…thought I forgot…my…something…"

The end of the bed made a flash of movement and Emma used her foot to settle the arc her boyfriend was about to make. Which meant, she didn't have long to get rid of her mother before Killian started suffocating under there.

Snow raised her eyebrow. Honestly, how naïve did her daughter think she was? "Sorry to disturb your…_sleeping_. I thought I left my purse behind."

"Oh?" Emma said, breathlessly. "And did you?"

"Yeah, turns out I didn't search my bag hard enough."

Emma could only nod sheepishly in reply before letting out a tiny squeal that made Snow recoil in surprise.

That was Snow's queue to take her leave. "I'll see you tonight, Emma." She then lowered her gaze, ignoring her daughter's bulging eyes and walked towards the foot of the bed, careful as to not trip over _another _foot, and lightly and warily poked at an area she suspected _(hoped) _would not be intimate. "Killian."

Killian's hand found freedom from under the covers, just next to her own feet, and he fluttered his fingers in a farewell fashion. "Evening to you, m'lady," he replied in a muffled voiced.

Snow rolled her eyes and walked out, closing the bedroom door behind her.

As soon as the front door was shut Killian jumped out of the covers and inhaled selfishly as he crawled up to settle beside her. Emma threw her palms to her face as it remained flushed with embarrassment, her cheeks darkening with the hint of cherry-red.

Then Killian laughed beside her.

_He laughed_, the cheek! Emma whacked his shoulder.

"Ow!" he retorted childishly.

"How are you so entertained by this?"

"Look at it this way," he swung his right arm collected her into his chest. "At least she didn't interrupt during your, uh, what's that event Henry calls? Concert?"

"I was _not _that loud."

Killian held back from grinning.

"I wasn't! And it was mortifying just the same!" She covered her face with his chest. "Oh God…"

"Just be thankful it wasn't your father."

Emma's eyes widened at the alternative. She rested her chin on him.

He looked down at her, his face faltering. "You don't think your mother would…tell him. Would you?"

They stared at each other in silence before Emma spoke, "Not so entertaining now, is it?"

* * *

A/N: unbeta'd, please excuse any mistakes.


	14. Courting Danger

**Tumblr request: **"Those fics are great. Now I'm dying to read a fic where CHARMING is the one that catches them. (poor killian) haha"

Two people requested this so here goes!

**Rating: **Starts with K…ends with M. This is probably the dirtiest thing I've ever written…also happens to be my first time writing it so pleeeeease be gentle.

* * *

The town of Storybrooke didn't get a chance to breathe after the Snow Queen's end before they were dealing with the next big bad villain that decided the town must suffer/pay for whatever it did to them (yeah, get in line, buddy). In the past, Emma used to cry to the heavens and groan in a very unladylike fashion because she couldn't get one day, _one_ _day_, where her only problem was what choice of dessert she wanted to buy for dinner with her entire family. She pictured her mother scrambling through the kitchen trying to get everything ready as she walked through that door, Killian carrying the dessert they both decided on buying together (not apple-pie, she guaranteed that) with that shit-eating grin on his face behind her, stopping to catch Regina, reluctantly, Regina would say, if asked why she accepted the invitation, and David, licking his fingers after dipping in his wife's home-made sauce and getting his hand slapped away, helping to set up the table. Henry would walk out of his room after finishing his homework, much to the prodding of his brunette mother, and heading straight to Killian for the dessert. Snow would beat him to it and yank the dessert from Killian's hand and shake her finger at Henry, _not before dinner_. Killian would smile sympathetically at Henry as the kid would sag his shoulders in defeat. And then they'd sit around the table and talk about their days as if the world wasn't made up of fairies and wizards and magic, and they were all living normal lives and having normal jobs.

But that wasn't the reality, not right now. Instead, Emma was spending her dinner at the station with her father and boyfriend searching through books, provided by the resourceful Belle, to learn more about this big baddie that just had to insist on attacking right after the previous one. _Do they just get together and schedule these things?_ Emma mused, and then shook out of her stupor when David and Killian walked into the station with the Italian take-out; Emma wanted Chinese (understatement, more like intensely craved but what could she do? It was that time), but was outnumbered by her father and her traitor of a boyfriend.

As soon as they laid the bags on the table Emma stood to move the books to one side. She looked through one of the take-out bags, pasta - probably her dad's, and the other, which gave off a not-so-Italian aroma. Wait, Chinese?

She threw the two of them a confused look. David lifted his arms in a motion of "don't look at me" and pointed to Killian as he did that bashful ear-scratch move that Emma found incredibly endearing.

"I figured you worked hard enough this year to earn at least the food of your choice," he explained, and if her father hadn't been standing there she would've grasped his cheeks in a smothering manner and made a meal out of his tongue, that or cried with tears of joy (she really, _really _craved Chinese).

In all seriousness, Emma was truly touched and she made sure to let him know (she was really going for the whole walls-down/full trust thing). "Thank you." She gasped, "And you bought those dumplings that I like!" Ah, screw it, she grabbed his face and kissed him anyway, not pulling away until her father cleared his throat, Killian blushing and letting out a very pleased breath soon thereafter (and making sure to avoid looking David in the eye).

They sat down and Emma took a moment to run her fingers down Killian's thigh under the table, causing him to make a start. That was gonna bruise. Emma then distracted David's questioning gaze to start the conversation by filling the two in on what she found thus far, which was next-to-nothing, and the rest of the conversation was covered by very welcomed topics of mundane things, like "your mother forgot to buy that washing powder with that lemony smell" and "I have to wear two socks to keep my feet from going numb, I never liked the blasted cold anyway". It was moments like these where she really appreciated her life in Storybrooke and almost thankful, almost, about the constant attacks on the town, because these moments wouldn't have been as precious and special. Consciously, Emma realised she was finally enjoying the quiet moments, something that the two gentlemen before her reminded her to do every day.

"-tomorrow night?"

Emma shook her head to come back to the conversation. "Sorry, Dad, what was that?"

"I asked if you and Hook would like to come over for dinner tomorrow night." He chuckled, "Your mother wants to show off her new cooking recipe."

They all scrunched their faces. That only meant one thing - they were gonna be the test subjects. And anyone who had ever tried Snow White's experimental recipes would know to eat beforehand while practising their acting skills.

"What is it this time?" Killian dared to ask.

"Lasagne," David said.

Emma hummed. "That doesn't sound too bad."

"With liver."

"Oh," Killian and Emma said simultaneously. This could go either way - it could be bad (tolerable), or it could be really bad, as in oh-no-I'm-suddenly-coming-down-with-something-best-to-have-chicken-soup-instead bad; must be that time of year, they would explain to her, and luckily Snow had made enough chicken soup by now to be an expert at it.

"Oh, damn it," David exclaimed the next instant.

"What?" Emma said, mirroring her boyfriend's alarm.

David, searching through his take-out bag, said, "They forgot the lemon tartufo." He stood up, missing Killian's very confused "The what?!" in the background, and waved at them with an "I'll be back", taking off before either of them had a chance to respond.

Once David was nowhere in sight Killian turned to face his girlfriend. "You," he said, playfully poking her nose.

"Me?" Emma replied, innocently.

"Are a bloody siren, you are."

Emma shrugged, pretending she hadn't been playing footsie with him the entire meal. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You're lucky your father didn't catch on. If we were back in the Enchanted Forest he would've literally have my head."

"Didn't peg you for someone with a yellow streak," she said, suddenly feeling like she was pursuing an exciting, illicit courtship, and almost laughed at how fast Killian sat back with an insulted look on his face.

"I'll have you know, Swan, that I was the notorious _Terror of the Sea_ amongst my seafaring days."

Emma furrowed her eyebrows, a teasing smirk befalling her lips. "Isn't that Blackbeard?"

If possible, he looked even more offended. "Those stories also suggest I have a pern. Not everything you read holds the full truth to its tales."

"It's _perm_. And if you are as fearless as you claim you are," Emma leaned closer until their lips were almost touching, "why don't you prove it, Captain?" she challenged, biting her lip in a daring manner.

Hook's eyebrows raised, his eyes glancing at the clock above on the wall and mentally counting the amount of time they had left before David walked in on them. Not long…which meant he had to make it worth her while.

It happened so fast. One minute they were facing each other off, not too dissimilar to a Western standoff, and the next their lips crashed together in a fiercely blaze. Hook had met her challenge with equal force. Hands were rushing, cheeks were burning, eyes were darkening, breaths were shortening, and it was almost unbearable. In the midst of it all Emma's hand found an area that made her boyfriend almost begging for mercy. In the few seconds Killian managed to conjure up a thought or two he realised that it was Emma who planned to make it worth _his _while. And the way she gripped at him, causing his hips to buckle upwards, confirmed that.

"We're going…to get caught," Killian said between the kissing.

"Where's your…sense of…thrill?" Emma impatiently went for his belt, unbuttoned his dark trousers and zipped him down. She slid her palm slowly, but effectively, if his pleasured hiss had to say anything about it, down the rigid shape of erection, until she reached the end and then gripped it upwards, continuing her hand movement in a pumping motion.

Emma smiled at Killian's shaky breathing. She learned that she loved seeing him like this. All openly-expressive and letting go. Once she watched him throw his head back she took it as a sign to take the next step. Pushing her chair slightly backwards Emma slid under the table to only be visibly to Hook's downward gaze.

Killian exhaled deeply as he anticipated for the next part, his heart hammering in his chest. She took him in almost instantly. Her lips were hot with fervour, her tongue meeting it with drive. She took her time, as if she was getting payback for his own doing to her, and he could only part his lips and groan with immense approval as he met her eyes downward just briefly. He then closed his eyes and laid his head back, encouraging Emma to keep going, _keep going_, because this just felt _so__ bloody good_.

"-damn teenagers and their moody fits."

Killian abruptly raised his head at the sound of David's voice entering the vicinity. He quickly looked down at Emma, seeing a slight flash of panic in her eyes but she was still not stopping, and back up to where he saw the man place a white carton of his presumably tartufo on the desk.

"How hard is it to get decent customer service around here? I even had the stupid receipt. What were they gonna do? Rob the sheriff?" It was then David noticed a certain absence. "Hey, where's Emma?" he casually asked, as if she wasn't sucking off her boyfriend dry below him.

"I..u-urrmm…" He couldn't stop shaking in his breaths, but he managed to seethe, "Bathroom! Sh-she's in the-" he held his tongue, because if he hadn't he wouldn't have been able to hold back from letting out an embarrassingly rowdy moan, having to swallow it down instead.

"Oh, okay." Damn the man, he had the worst timing. "Guess we should just continue until she gets back."

Hook's eyes widened as Emma suddenly hastened her pace. The minx was going to go through with it all.

"H-hey, you wan-" he swallowed again, "-wanna check the books…at the back in case we miSSED-" he saw David recoil in surprise.

"You alright there?" David asked, with an undertone of actual concern in his voice while he opened his carton to reveal a rather delicious-(Killian inwardly groaned, not the right words to use right now)-looking dessert.

Hook had to close his eyes because he could no longer face the man. He gripped the table till his knuckles turned white and in one, quick exclamation, he slurred, "Gochecktheback!"

David blinked and warily placed his utensil down. "O-kay." David stood and headed to the office, giving Killian finally a chance to breath. And just in the nick of time, Emma made one final, agonising pull of her lips and Killian gripped a handful of her hair, releasing himself into her mouth with a rather loud cry of "_Seven hells_!" and an extra vulgar term between his teeth. He sagged in his seat a second later, breathing heavily.

Emma snickered, wiping the corner of her lips with her thumb and crawling out from under her kneeling position. She sat beside him and keenly waited for a response.

"That…" Killian started, "…was a _very_ dangerous game."

"Yes, but did we get caught?"

He raised his eyebrow. "When I said I found myself inevitably courting danger whenever I'm with you, I didn't realise it would apply to _all_ aspects of our relationship."

"Is that a complaint?" Emma met his raised eyebrow with hers, knowing full well what the answer was.

Killian exhaled with a mixture of a sigh and laugh. "How you would say it in this realm, _no way_," he said as he buttoned himself up and did his belt.

Emma laughed and momentarily turned her head to the clock. She then did a second-take and her expression dropped when she took notice of a device next to it. "Oh shit…"

Hook turned to her, taking in her worried expression. "What?"

She pointed upwards and Killian found himself staring at-

Oh.

'_Oh shit_' was right.

Killian's heart started pacing once more, and this time not because of Emma's enticing tongue, but of fear. He may still be adjusting to his new home but even he knew what Emma was point at – a camera, a camera that had just recorded _everything_. And it was at the back, which meant if David walked in a certain point he may have made it in time to see-

"_HOOK!_"

xXx

The next few days consisted of Killian snagging secret kisses from his entertained girlfriend and making sure to avoid David's explosively angry eyes and very monstrous-looking truck. Needless to say, he became an expert in the game of cat-and-mouse.

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**A/N:** Don't forget to leave a review. Which reminds me, shoutout to the lovely **TheSilentPrincess** for always leaving me such encouraging reviews.

**Post-Edit:** I can't take anymore requests for the time being, but when I do get the chance please ask me on tumblr.


	15. Part of Something: Christmas Edition

It was a rather hectic holiday for Emma this year. Before she didn't think much of Christmas. She didn't have to worry about the last minute shopping and trying to figure out what everybody wanted or what day or time she was supposed to be at her parents'. Before Henry invited himself into her apartment, Emma used to watch everyone else scurry about in the shopping centres, with frets on their faces about whether that new video game they wanted for their daughter was still in stock and panicking when it wasn't. She remembered this one incident where a women was literally kicking and banging at the doors of a store because they were closed, and screaming for them to open even though the all the lights were off.

She used to tell herself that she was glad she didn't have to deal with all that stress. But truth be told she was incredibly jealous (not that you'd ever see her going Hulk over a pair of fluffy socks she should've bought a day prior); because at the end of the day they were stressing about how to make their family happy. If someone told her that in the not-too-distant future she would have all that - parents, a son, close friends, a new apartment she may or may not share with her boyfriend, a _home_, Emma would have raised her eyebrow and scowled at them in that "Swan-fashion", as Regina would remark, before slamming the door in their faces.

But here she was, ending a light discussion with Hook in the kitchen and heading into the loft's living room with two mugs of hot cocoa in her hands, where her parents, her son, and even Regina, sat around and talked over each other like in every family gathering she had seen in Christmas movies. It made her heart flutter.

It wasn't until she sat on an armchair after handing her son, who sat next to his grandparents in the larger couch, his hot cocoa that she started getting the gist of what they were fussing about - her mother's handmade jumpers with the first initial of every person she handed it to, (Jesus Christ her life really was Harry Potter). Like everyone else, Emma was already wearing hers, quite proudly. Except Regina, who sat in an armchair on the other end and held the bright red item between her hands, outright refusing to wear such "an insult to her fashion". "Do I look like I'm looking to marry a large moron who has nothing better to do than sneak into houses at night and steal milk and cookies?" she jabbed, and then quickly pointing a finger at David, "Answer that and I'll throw a fireball at you." That earned her a laugh from everyone.

Snow then held up another jumper, this time in a more dark red-maroon shade. "Hey, Killian," she called out to him as he finished washing his earlier chocolate-filled mug. "Come on here, I want to give you yours."

Killian whipped his head around almost instantly and then blinked, a look of complete astonishment on his face. He absurdly pointing a finger at his chest just to make sure extra sure she wasn't talking to some other Killian behind him.

Snow giggled. "Yes you! Come here," she said, motioning him to move closer. And he did, as everyone watched his every step. Snow stood up from her seat between her husband and grandson and held up the jumper with the initial "K" on it close to his chest. Killian stood there, dumbfounded, sparing looks between her mother and the jumper held out to him below until finally Snow pushed the item closer, "Well, take it!"

He took the item in his hand absently and Emma wondered what went on in his head in that exact moment. Everyone anticipated his reaction, expecting it to be much like Regina's as her choice of wardrobe colour was not unlike his. But it was quite the opposite. He wasn't scoffing or fussing or even saying anything, instead he stood there seeming to inspect the soft material between his thumb and forefinger, an unexpected collect of mist forming in his eyes.

"Do you see, Snow?" Regina said, breaking the anticipation. "They're so awful you even made the pirate cry!"

Killian's eyes widened and he looked up like he just realised he wasn't alone in the room. He quickly lifted his hand in the air to dismiss the woman's claim, "No that's not why I'm cryi- I mean to say I'm _not _crying! I'm just-" he halted.

Everyone remained quiet, waiting for him for an explanation. When he didn't say anything Emma looked up at him and asked in a worried tone, "Hey, what's wrong?"

Killian shook his head. "Nothing's wrong, love."

Emma gave him a look to remind him of her "superpower", as he usually would put it.

He blushed, and for a moment she thought he might finally tell them, but changed his mind at the last minute. "It's…nothing, really-"

"No, tell us," Snow encouraged.

Killian let out a melancholy sigh. "It's just…" He looked to be trying to form the right words in his mind. "It's been…so long since I've been part of a family." The air in the room suddenly felt heavy. In a voice so broken and quiet Killian continued, as if to himself, staring down at the gift in his hand, "I've forgotten what it was like."

Emma swallowed down a thick lump in her throat. She knew that if someone asked him later about that hitch in his voice he would deny it. And she wouldn't blame him, because she might've been the only person in the room to understand the weight of that statement. The longing to be a part of something truly special and never feeling like your deserve it enough.

"It's…different. Warm, I suppose," Killian chuckled, trying to put more light in the situation. Emma wished he would look up and around, to see the smiles they were giving him. The smiles he deserved.

It wasn't until David stood up when the thickness of the air was started breaking. He picked up his own mug, and on his way to the kitchen David passed Killian to put a heartfelt pat on his shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze and telling him, "Well, get used to it. You're here now."

Killian sighed unsteadily, a smile shaping his features as if to block any further display of his true emotions, as if he hadn't just confessed to his darkest, most genuine secret that burdened his heart for centuries, to people he assumed wouldn't place much care for his absence.

Emma stood from her seat, pulling at his elbow to motion him to take her place while she sat on the armrest. She couldn't begin describe how glad she felt when he easily accepted. Emma gifted him with her biggest smile, earning one just as bright from him, as she then pulled her legs over his lap sideways and looped her arms around his neck, giving him a sincere peck on his cheek that lingered longer than it should have. This was usually around the time where Henry would cringe at their display, Regina would roll her eyes, her mother would gaze downwards uncomfortably and her father would cough till his throat was sore.

But maybe, just this once, they were okay with making an exception.

* * *

A/N: I told myself not to write any more drabbles but I couldn't shake this one off. I just have too many Killian feelings. But yeah this has to be the last one till I finish my next assignment.


	16. The Bus Stop

She sees him at the bus stop every day for two months on her way to work. She learns that he usually wears casual jeans, sometimes black, sometimes dark blue; a grey men's peacoat that stops just at his belt; and a blue scarf. Incidentally, the scarf is the first thing she notices about him when he takes the seat beside her that first day. The scarf has letters and, being one not to pass up on an opportunity to solve a puzzle, she squints her eyes and tries to work out the entire word from the corner of her vision as he busies himself with texting. He gets up before she manages to get passed the letter 'r'.

It isn't until the third day when she finally takes notice of his face (by complete accident); her second day of figuring out the word on his scarf becomes unsuccessful when he manages to run and catch his bus ahead of her, she only gets the chance to take a glimpse of his back (_behind_, the back of her mind corrects). She stands beside him. It's a particularly cold day and his hands are shoved firmly in his coat pockets and his shoulders are riding upwards from the goosebumps. His scarf, much to her chagrin, is double knotted this time and she can barely make out the third letter. She slowly leans forward ever-so-slightly until he catches her from the corner of his eye. Her eyes accidentally look upwards to meet his and much to her complete and utter embarrassment she notices that he is watching her the entire time with an odd, curious and slightly bemused look. Eyes widening, she turns away immediately and faces the opposite direction, silently urging her bus to arrive already (which would've been unusual considering his arrives before hers). From her peripheral vision she can tell he is still staring, and he blinks a few times before letting her be. His bus arrives not a moment sooner and he gets on without looking back. Once the bus drives away she lets out the breath of relief she has been holding and lets her mind process. She learns that he has a nice face to go with the nice behind.

The very next day he greets her with a small smile; a smile that acknowledges her with recognition but doesn't demand anything further. He is giving her an opening, an option that if she wants to start a conversation with him she can. Her heart pains with regret when she doesn't take up the offer and watches his bus turn at the end of the street.

She starts giving him small smiles back instead, forgetting about the letters on his scarf.

They keep their brief, awkward routine going for another week they cross paths at the bus stop. He then disappears for the rest of the month and when he comes back the next month and waits for the bus, his eyes gaze downwards, his shoulders seem to burden heavy weights and his expression is distant. He does not greet or acknowledge her with a smile. He does not even look at her. She wonders shortly if she has done something to upset him.

When the end of that week makes its way he does not wear his blue scarf. But it isn't the first thing she notices. Unlike the previous week where he looks put-together and quite well-shaven with the faint stubble, this week seems to be taking a toll on him. His eyes are bloodshot and surrounded by dark circles, his hair is scruffy and his stubble is more prominent. But neither of which are what she takes notice of initially either. Instead, she is first struck by the fierce melancholy of his blue eyes; the eyes of a broken man. She toys with the idea of asking him what was wrong, but they are virtually strangers. She does not feel entitled to invade his space and boundaries, not when they have not said even a word between each other. Given what he seems to be going through at the moment, it certainly is not the time to introduce herself either.

She learns today that she misses his smiles.

His bus arrives and he seems to snap out of whatever daze he is in. The bus pulls to a halt and opens its doors. Without thinking, she reaches into her bag and pulls out a packet of bear claws she bought earlier and hands it over to him.

"Here," she tells him, and when he looked at her in confusion, she continues, "You look like you need it more than I do."

Slowly, he reaches for her offer and warily takes it, as if to make sure it isn't some sort of trick. He places the packet under his left arm and gives her a small smile, not the sweet one she is used to receiving from him, but a more tearful one. He steps onto his bus and lifts his hand in a goodbye fashion as the bus driver separates them.

She does not see him again until two days later and on her way back home. It isn't the bus stop they usually catch each other at, but something caused the man to change his pathway, and when she sees what he is clad in, she understands. He is not wearing his usual blue scarf; not his black or blue jeans; not his peacoat. Today, he bears a black suit and tie, and her heart drops at the realisation; he has lost someone.

He sways slightly until he reaches the bus stop and his figure finds balance on the ad window, an ad, ironically, about controlling your drinking. His gloved thumb and forefinger rub between his eyes – a sign of an oncoming headache. The rest of the passengers at the bus stop move slightly away from him, and suddenly she feels a duty to be there for him. No one should be alone at a time like this. Yet again, that finicky thought reminds her that they are still virtually strangers. She wouldn't even know how to approach him.

Her thoughts are interrupted when her bus turns to the street and she considers maybe waiting for the next just to make sure he would get on his bus safely first, but that idea was pushed aside when he starts and makes his way to the pole. She remembers he's supposed to be taking her way towards their usual stop where they cross paths in the morning. For the first time since they met, they are going to use the same bus.

A crowd of people form a line to the door and he awkwardly manoeuvres towards them, bumping into a gentleman in front. The gentleman shrugs off the sudden intrusion and turns to give her scarf-man a lecture about personal space when the man notices his black attire.

She approaches the two and gathers the drunken mourner into her arms to help him find balance in his walking, exchanging nods of sympathy with the gentleman in front of her. Her blue-eyed friend (acquaintance? Awkward-smiling buddy?) doesn't take any notice of his surroundings. Whoever he lost must have been someone he held close.

They sit together, and ten minutes later he is opening up.

He tells her of the man he lost; the man who had raised him since their father left and their mother died. He talks about the time he spent under his orders out in the sea during his time in the navy (she guesses that's where he disappeared to a few weeks earlier). He talks about how he immediately left his job when everything fell apart _that day_. He talks about how he left in the middle of his brother's funeral because if he had to hear a condoling apology _one more time_ he would _sock somebody in the fucking nose_. (The tone of his accented voice would have been a lot more menacing had it not fractured at the end). She wonders if he knows who he is talking to, if he knows who she is through his drunken stupor. He continues to tell her how angry he is at his brother for leaving him, just like mother and father. He tells her how alone is now, how he doesn't have anybody else to turn to. She blinks at his confession and feels her heart constrict. Her hand moves on its own accord and is placed on top of his with understanding. She tries to give him a comforting squeeze but stops short when she feels the rigidity of it. His eyes immediately drop towards her touch. She removes her hand from him and finds that his hand has a particular stillness to it. _Oh_.

Before she can say anything further they reach his bus stop and he is immediately out of his seat.

She learns a lot about him that day.

She doesn't see him until the end of the second month and she doesn't stop thinking about him the entire time, hoping every day that he is well.

He greets her at their bus stop, slowing down the second he gets closer to her and stopping with a feet between them. She notices how he has changed back to the usual attire she first saw him in.

An uncomfortable silence falls between them. The man scratches behind his ear as he says, "Um…about the other evening."

She looks at him in the eyes and reassures him of her attention.

"I just wanted to apologise-"

"Don't," she interrupts. "Don't worry about it. I just hope you're doing better."

He blinks and gives her the smile she misses so much. "I'm…managing. But thank you," he whispers, "for listening."

She gives him one of her smiles. "You're welcome."

They turn to face forward as another silence fills their space.

Shaking her head, she decides to take a chance. "By the way," he turns to her, it's now or never. "I'm Emma."

He shakes her hand and beams, "Killian."

Her bus turns to their corner. "I'm on my way to this café that my friend owns…if you wanna…join me or something?"

"I'd like that," he responds warmly.

The bus is a few seconds from stopping when Emma remembers what she has been wanting to say since the first time she saw him.

"I gotta ask," she holds her hand towards his scarf. "What the hell does that say?"

Killian's eyebrows furrow in confusion as he looks down. He then chuckles. "That is something my brother used to make fun of me for." He unwraps his scarf from his neck. "But he knew how much it meant to me, so he bought this as a birthday gift a few years back."

He holds the blue scarf out to her and she finally unravels the mystery. Emma laughs in surprise and Killian laughs along with her.

She learns today, that he is a potterhead.

* * *

A/N: Inspired by my own Ravenclaw scarf. Also my first Modern AU fic. Unbeta'd.

This is probably my last piece of writing fiction. I've made a decision to give up writing. Sorry, if there's anyone out there actually reading my shit. There's more info on my tumblr page.


	17. Jolly Good Fellow

**A/N:** After my mini-meltdown in the previous chapter a few people approached me and advised me to take a long break from writing instead of just giving up.

What can I say, you can take the writer out of the writing, but you can't take the writing out of the writer.

I've had this plot-bunny on my mind for a while (especially since someone in my life has celebrated it recently), and I started writing this before the airing of the conclusion of 4A. So please bear with me!

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

* * *

Emma and Henry didn't have much time before David returned with Killian to Granny's for his surprise. She still remembered the thoughtful look on Killian's face a few days prior, when they were succumbing to the warmth of Emma's bed in her new apartment, limbs entwining and calves stroking. It was a Sunday morning and they were both taking the advantage of a rare, calm Storybrooke. Emma drew into the heat of his skin and he happily obliged by taking her waist and pulling her into him, her ears placed closely to the sound of his beating heart. They stayed in their positions under comfortable silence.

Emma shifted her head upwards to get a glimpse of him. He was staring intensely at the calendar hung up on her wall and it took her hand caressing his chin towards her direction to get his attention.

Killian smiled at the contact and leaned in to kiss her, his right hand lovingly squeezing her hips.

She giggled, (which she will deny it later if someone asked), and sighed contently. "What's on your mind?"

Killian blinked at her, briefly hesitating. "Nothing important."

Emma shrugged her shoulders against his skin. "It looked important."

He hesitated again.

She mentally shook her head, _uh-uh not gonna happen_. "Hey," she cupped his face. "Tell me."

"It's just…" his eyes stare off into distance behind her before coming back to meet hers. "I had a dream about my brother last night."

_Oh_, well that explained it. She used her thumb to stroke his cheek, silently encouraging him to continue.

"And," his hand started playing with her hem of her thin camisole, "we were celebrating my birthday." She smiled at him. "It was after our mother died and father had left us. We were very poor. We could barely afford to eat, and yet, Liam insisted on buying me a gift.

"I may have been just a lad, but that didn't mean I didn't understand the lengths he had pursued, the extra hours he had to work as a night guard, just to save enough money to buy me a gift."

Emma resisted the urge to allow her eyes to water. "What was it?"

"It was a practice sword. I was begging Liam to start teaching me to fight." His eyes left to wander into the memory and his face broke into a grin. "He left for naval training the next day."

Not wanting for him to fall into the sadness of his loss, Emma reassured him, "Liam seemed like a very thoughtful brother."

"He taught me to fight every day off he had. And just because I was his brother didn't mean he went easy on me. How do I think I got this scar?"

Emma's fingers traced over the small cut on his cheek as she said, incredulously, "He cut you?"

"Well, he didn't mean to, and he rather overreacted when he hauled me all the way to his naval camp to see the academy's doctor." Killian winced at the embarrassment he felt during that moment.

"It could've been infected," Emma said in his brother's defence.

"That's what he said!" Killian chuckled. "It's a shame you two didn't meet. You two would've really gotten along."

They fell into another comfortable silence before Killian thought out loud, "I think it's next week…" He didn't have to spell it out for her to know what he was referring to.

Emma recalled the unsure tone of his voice, and her heart tightened at the realisation that it had been so long since he had a birthday, probably since his brother or Milah died, that he didn't even remember the day. So as soon as they were out of bed and dressed, Emma pouted at him to fetch a few groceries to get him out the way. Once he was out of the apartment she quickly turned to Henry as he finished his homework, and asked for his help to arrange something for Killian. Henry's face immediately brightened as he reassured her to "leave it to him."

And here they were now, six in the evening, finishing the final touches of the decorations. Robin stood on one side of the "Happy Birthday!" sign and Will (offering to help after much to Belle's prodding) on the other side, as they try to balance it above the diner.

Granny had taken on the challenge of baking a large cake and even the dwarves had offered to help set up, (they may have been there for the cake; though she knew Sneezy was quite fond of the pirate).

Emma's phone vibrated in her pocket and she dug it out to read a text from David.

_Can't occupy any longer; getting suspicious. On our way._

Emma's eyes widened. "Quick everyone! We have two minutes." The diner turned into rushing traffic as everyone completed their assigned tasks. Henry hissed that he could see grandpa's truck outside the window and they lowered the lights.

Emma heard her father and Killian as they entered the building. "Why are the lights off?" She heard Killian say and grinned; this was their cue.

The lights quickly came back on with a loud spectacle of "SURPRISE!" from everyone in the diner.

Killian stumbled backwards into David from the shock, muttering, "The bloody hell-"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" they joyfully yelled. David grasped his shoulders from behind and shook him in a congratulatory manner. It took a moment for Killian to realise that the man was in on it. The entire town was. And he couldn't help but feel a ball of emotions well up in his chest.

They all started singing, "Fooor he's a jolly good fellow! For he's a _jolly_ good fellow…" He guessed this part was Emma's idea from her proud grinning.

Granny and Lucas wheeled the large cake towards him and everyone started gathering around. The singing came to an end and all that was left was for him to blow out the candles.

But Emma quickly stopped him before he got to it. "Now you should know that we didn't have enough room for a thousand candles."

Everyone chuckled and Killian could only do the same.

"So we gotta ask, how old would you be on this birthday not counting the Neverland years?"

Killian hummed. "Without those _thousand_ years," he jested towards Emma, "I supposed I would be…thirty…one? Two?" he pondered for a few more seconds before confirming, "Thirty one."

"Hah! I was close!" Ruby exclaimed from the back and came out holding an extra candle. She fired it up and placed it on the cake.

"Now make a wish," Snow told him.

Killian opened his mouth to speak, but halted. He took a hold of Emma's hand beside him and turned to her. "I don't need to." A tinge of pink coloured her cheeks and as she smiled at him. "I can't believe you did this for me."

"Actually, it was Henry's idea mostly," she corrected. "He managed to arrange all this and all I could do was help."

Killian turned towards the lad ready to thank him when Robin suddenly exclaimed, "Whoa, Roland!" He rushed forward to take a hold of his son before the boy blew out the candles himself. "That's for Killian."

Hook rushed to the boy's defence. "It's alright." He knelt down to Roland's height. "I can't possibly blow out these candles all by myself. Will you help me, Roland?" The young boy eagerly nodded and Killian lifted him to a good height above the candles. He then swung his arm to Henry's direction. "Come over here, lad. This is happening thanks to you." Henry's face brightened as he made his way towards Killian's other side. They all inhaled deeply and exhaled over the lights.

Emma used her phone to capture the moment and a camera flashed from Mary-Margaret's direction. They all cheered as the cake was ready to be cut and eaten.

Moments later, where bellies were filled with cake and the adults swigged down their beers, Henry called out, "It's present time!"

Killian's face fell. "Oh no, you should not have-"

"Please, Killian," Emma interrupted "it's your birthday. Just enjoy it." He smiled uncomfortably.

"Me first!" Henry said, shoving a nicely-wrapped box towards his direction. Killian unravelled it to reveal a small, silver item. His confused look wasn't lost on Henry. "It's a classic iPod, you put songs in there and stuff. I'll show you how later."

"Lad, this must've cost quite the fortune, I couldn't possibly-"

"You're welcome," Henry grinned, leaving no room for Killian's rejection.

"Here," Regina shoved a smaller box to him next. The pirate's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Think of it as an…apology," she awkwardly shrugged, "for-"

"Shoving me into a dragon's den?" Killian finished cheekily.

Emma's face fell slightly. "She did what?"

"Just open it!" Regina urged. Killian removed the wrapping paper to reveal a box with the large letters _Gillette_ written across. He turned to Regina for an explanation. "You really need a shave."

Killian clears his throat, ignoring the few snickers in the room. "Thank you, Regina."

Emma then leaned close to his ear, rubbing his cheek and whispering, "Don't worry, I really like it like this."

Belle was next, and when he opened her gift he felt a gust of air rush from his lungs.

"I remembered how you told me that you were devastated about forgetting to take that book from your ship before you traded it," Belle said (and also recalling her questioning why he had traded it in the first place, which led to her seeing Killian for who he truly was and a conversation that ultimately started their friendship). "Now it may not have your brother's message on it, but I do hope that you like-" she didn't get the chance to finish her sentence before Killian pulled her in for a hug, ignoring Scarlet's glare behind her.

"Thank you, Belle. Truly."

Belle smiled in response, making no comment on his slightly watering eyes.

"You're welcome."

David and Snow waited until Killian took a few moments to gather himself and offered their gift next. "This one's from us," Snow said.

Killian opened the box and saw that it was a pair of really nice, expensive-looking black shoes. "Oh, they're quite…lovely," he commented, momentarily meeting Emma's eyes. Emma looked down at the shoes and she quickly grasped the reason for his sudden shift in mood.

Snow's face fell. "You don't like them?"

"No! I love them," Killian reassured her. "It's just that…"

Emma took a hold of one of the shoe and removed it from the box. "They have laces."

David met his wife's eyes. "So?"

Emma's eyebrows rose in a manner to urge them to understand. The entire room then fell into uncomfortable silence, which made Ruby's muttering of "awkward" all the more obvious.

"OH!" Snow exclaimed the next second, looking at her husband. "Oh, I'm so sorry. We hadn't even _thought_-"

"We'll just take them back," David quickly said as he tried to take the box from the Killian's hands.

Killian shifted it away from David's attempts. "No, it's alright. I'll manage." He then got up from his stool and gave Mary-Margaret a hug. "Thank you." He then patted David's shoulder in thanks and sat back.

Emma wrapped her arms around Killian's shoulders from behind, "I'll give you your present later." A chorus of a mischievous "Oooh!", with the exception of David's groan and Henry's _ew_, echoed throughout the entire diner and Emma felt her face flush. "Not that sort of present." She shook her head as they laughed. "Although…"

"How about we finish the rest of that cake, huh?" David quickly intervened and ending a topic he really didn't want to think about.

xXx

An hour later, when everyone's called it a night and headed home, Emma and Killian walked through the Storybrooke's streets, her arm hooked through his left elbow. At least Killian thought he was still in the streets. Emma had insisted that he kept his eyes closed while she took him to the direction of his present. But as they got closer Killian recognised the place from the scent. He wouldn't forget it even if he tried.

"Okay, you can open your eyes now."

Killian blinked several times to adjust his vision. "The docks? My present is…the docks?"

Emma playfully whacked his shoulder. "Don't be a smartass. It's _at_ the docks." She unloosed her arm from his. "In fact, you're looking at it."

Killian's eyebrows furrowed. "And what am I looking at? It's just the sea and this boat-"

He paused. _Oh._

"You…" Killian reeled his brain to form a sentence beneath his astonishment. "You got me a boat?"

Emma smiled. "Now it's not as extravagant or…enchanted as the _Jolly Roger_, and it's a little more upgraded to our world." She turned towards him when he hadn't said anything for several seconds. "Do you...like it?"

Killian whipped his head towards her, but instead of saying anything he responded by pulling her in for a fiery kiss; a heated, passionate kiss they haven't had since she pulled at his lapels in Neverland. Only this time, his tongue tasted of creamy icing. The air was cool, but the warmth of his soft, demanding lips sent waves of pleasure through her skin and bones, blocking the breeze. Her hands grazed the sandpapery feel of his stubble and then proceeded to dig into the roots of his short, dark locks, the soft feel of his hair sending a surge of multiple goosebumps on her arms. His hooked-arm found a home under her jacket and his hand gripped tightly at her hip. He smelt of light beer and dessert, a combination certainly inspiring her rising urge to moan. And her feelings-

Killian pulled away for an intake of breath and Emma saw that his blue eyes, despite them darkening during the intense moment, lit up in the night.

"Come on," she said breathlessly. "Let's show you inside."

She gave him a tour of the boat, the excited grin never leaving Killian's face. Emma briefly wondered if this was how he felt when Liam had given him the practice sword, and she felt privileged to have witnessed his inner child, that Killian felt so comfortable enough to share it with her. And it was times like this that reminded her that he had walls up too, and he needed her just as she needed him.

Finally, they reach the small bedroom. No further words exchanged between them as they shared a few more kisses before Emma playfully pushed him towards the bed, Killian landing with a soft thud.

"Oof!" he exclaimed with a large grin breaking his face.

"Now, for your _other_ present…"

* * *

**A/N:** I'm sure you could use your imaginations from there ;)


End file.
